


Not Anymore

by queerofthedagger



Series: Chasing Stars - A Series of Jegulus One-Shots [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Don't copy to another site, First War with Voldemort, M/M, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27962054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerofthedagger/pseuds/queerofthedagger
Summary: A part of Regulus hates him for this, hates himso muchfor all this patience and concern and understanding. He draws from it now, focuses on the burn right beneath his ribs that wants to scream and shout that the world cannot always be rightened by warm hugs and warmer words.War demands sacrifices; some, Regulus learns, are harder than others.
Relationships: Regulus Black/James Potter
Series: Chasing Stars - A Series of Jegulus One-Shots [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1524134
Comments: 10
Kudos: 75





	Not Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago for an exercise in the Writing Discord I'm in. I'm slowly moving my shorter stuff to ao3 too, so uuh. Have some angst? ❤️
> 
> Please do not repost my work anywhere or list it on goodreads (or similar sites).

It’s freezing cold up on the Astronomy Tower, the wind whipping through the open expanses in the stone and crawling its way underneath the layers of clothes.

Regulus barely feels it, barely feels anything at all but the pounding of his heart and the burning of his left forearm. The certainty that this is only going to be the first in a long line of things he resents doing with everything he is.

Despite facing the door, he still jumps when it creaks open, every muscle in his body tensing.

“Reg?” James’ voice is as warm as his smile when he appears from underneath his invisibility cloak, and no matter how much he’s prepared himself for this, his throat still closes up, body refusing to move away when James takes his hand and links their fingers together.

“I missed you,” James says, and some remains of his self-preservation finally kick in, some sense of _if I let him closer, I’ll never get the words past my teeth_ , and he takes a swift step away.

It’s only going to get worse, and the sooner this sinks in as an unshakable truth, the better for everyone involved.

The hurt and confusion flashing through James’ eyes bring the first wave of regret with them, and he clenches his jaw against the apologies clawing their way up his throat.

Clenches his hands in his pockets to hide their urge to reach out and run his fingers through the ever-messy mop of hair, trace the familiar lines of James’ jaw and his nose and his brows like he’s done a hundred times.

He should’ve known better, should’ve known that trying to hold something so irrevocably _good_ between his palms will only taint them both.

“We can’t keep seeing each other,” he finally says, and his voice is as cold as the blasted January-night they’re standing in. “We were fools to ever do it in the first place.”

And they were, and it’s not like Regulus hadn’t known; like he hadn’t been acutely aware that Prefect rounds together evolving into tutoring sessions, turning into Seeker matches late at night would only lead to disaster.

He’d known, and still he’d been unable to put a stop to it, to warm smiles and lingering touches, and eventually stolen moments in hidden alcoves or empty classrooms. He’s still not sure if those snatches of happiness were worth it, and that is just another lie he tries convincing himself of.

“Why?” James asks, and his voice is still so very warm, his expression still worried instead of angry, and Regulus wants to cry with how much he doesn’t deserve any of it.

_Because it’s too dangerous. Because I have to protect Sirius, and that meant taking the mark. Because I’m one of his now, and he’d use me to get to you and everyone you love in a heartbeat. Because I’d rather die than let anything happen to you._

“Because it was never meant to last,” is what he actually says, meeting James’ eyes while keeping his expression carefully blank. “We both knew this, Potter. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

James’ shoulders stiffen, a crease forming between his brows, and Regulus silently begs for anger. For disappointment or harsh words, anything to make this easier.

Of course, James never does what he’s supposed to. If he did, he would’ve left Regulus alone in the first place and they wouldn’t be standing here. “You’ve not called me that in a long time,” he says, the words slow and deliberate as he carefully musters him. Regulus’ skin prickles. “Something’s happened over the holidays, hasn’t it? Are you alright?”

A part of Regulus hates him for this, hates him _so much_ for all this patience and concern and understanding. He draws from it now, focuses on the burn right beneath his ribs that wants to scream and shout that the world cannot always be rightened by warm hugs and warmer words.

“Are you really so arrogant to believe that something must’ve happened for me to be tired of you?” he mocks, and it burns on his tongue and tears at his throat, like he’s swallowed shards of ice.

But there’s a first flicker of anger beneath the confusion and hurt, and Regulus can’t stop now, can’t listen to the niggling voice that wants to put its trust in all the pretty promises that were whispered between them.

“As fun as it was, it’s just not really worth the trouble anymore,” he adds, nails digging into his palms where they’re still hidden in his pockets. “I’d rather not risk ruining my reputation over something that’s losing its charm.”

James opens his mouth as if to say something, his eyes flashing and his hands balling into fists at his sides, but then he stops. Turns his head away, and Regulus can see him taking measured breaths, and he hates that he knows what it means too.

“I don’t believe you,” James finally says, his voice level as he takes a step towards him. “You forget that I can tell when you’re lying, and I wouldn’t even need that right now because I know you. I know that you hide your hands when you’re nervous and that you’re only ever wearing that cold mask when you’re uncomfortable. And I know that you’re not unnecessarily cruel when you can help it.”

“Do you now?” Regulus presses out, but his voice is hoarse and his chest too tight, and James is still warm eyes and concerned features, and if he doesn’t leave soon, Regulus will unravel right in front of him. “You know nothing.”

“Reg—“

“No, you do not know _anything_ ,” he snarls, digging up the anger at having to do this; at his parents for wanting at least one of their sons serving the Dark Lord, at Sirius for leaving, at the Dark Lord for existing. At himself for thinking he could do it. “You want to know the reason?”

There’s wariness in James’ eyes now, but also still so very much concern that Regulus nearly chokes on it. James nods.

His hands don’t shake as he pulls them from his pockets, his fingers steady as he unbuttons his left sleeve, pushing it up. His gaze doesn’t waver from James’ face as he holds his arm out, displaying the black snake winding through the skull, forever imprinted into his skin. Marking him as the very thing James loathes more than anything.

“I’ve made my choice,” he says quietly, and he should feel satisfaction at how harshly James recoils, but there’s only numbness.

“No,” James chokes out, and when he tears his eyes away from Regulus’ arm to look at him, there’s only horror. “No, you—we—we can still _fix this_. Why didn’t you come to me? I told you—"

Regulus laughs, short and mirthless, because it’s either that or letting all the words he _wants_ to say spill out. “Do you still not understand? _Because I wanted to_. This is who I am and snogging a righteous Gryffindor for a few months won’t change that. I don’t need your saving or your pity or your lectures,” he spits, and he thinks he might be sick. 

Finally, _finally_ James’ face hardens, and still Regulus can read him too well to not see the pain hiding underneath. He’s never hated himself more.

For long moments, there’s silence, only the noise of the wind howling through the empty space between them as they stare at each other. Then, James gives a sharp nod, though his trembling hands belie his resolve. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but eventually just closes his eyes for long moments before turning away and walking towards the door.

He freezes with his hand on the handle, his head bowing, and he turns slightly to glance at Regulus once more. “If you ever—if you regret it, I’ll help you,” he says, and then he disappears with a silent click of the door.

Regulus sags, his knees nearly giving out from underneath him. He curls his hands around the frozen railing until his knuckles go white, and clenches his jaw to keep himself from—he doesn’t know. All he knows is that if he doesn’t, he’s going to fall apart, and he can’t allow himself that luxury. Not anymore.

Not with nobody left to put the pieces back together.


End file.
